


Stronger Than the Past

by frantic65



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-25
Updated: 2014-07-21
Packaged: 2018-02-06 05:54:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1846876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frantic65/pseuds/frantic65
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brian needs to go back to the beginning if he wants to have a future with Justin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story is set immediately after Justin's refusal of Brian's first marriage proposal in episode 511, then all bets are off. Some angst but no real warnings.

Stronger Than the Past  
 _There’s one way out and one way in, back to the beginning._  
There’s one way back to home again, to where I feel forgiven.   
~Human by Civil Twilight~

He turned me down and I left without a word, secretly relieved that once again he had proven to be the stronger in the never-ending rollercoaster ride that defined our dysfunctional disaster of a non-relationship. 

I had survived for many years in the cutthroat advertising industry by knowing when to cut my losses and just fucking run, but upon exiting his shitty apartment building in the demilitarized zone he had chosen to call home, I found I wasn’t quite ready to admit defeat.

I decided then that I had no choice.

I would have to go back to the beginning.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The beginning. 

I couldn’t turn back the fucking clock, not that it would change anything from that first night anyway. I’d still take him home and fuck his sweet virgin ass, rimming him until he screamed, things that have since become a fine tradition between us.

So instead I start with a latte and some doughnuts, knocking on the door of the artist’s lair, hoping for just one more chance to get it right.

He opens the door looking suspicious, and lets out a snort. His charm knows no bounds, but this time I’m on to him. 

“Good Morning, Sunshine.”

I try not to shudder as my Prada three-quarter camel coat brushes against his grungy front door, and he shoots me a quick knowing glance as though he read my mind. 

I remember to smile and the little shit lets out a short, barking laugh before walking back to me and giving me a quick hug. 

I return the favor as best as I can with my hands full, casually pressing my nose into his hair, eyes closing as his scent surrounds me for a few blissful seconds. 

He pulls back and now his expression reveals a hint of confusion. 

“You’re the last person I expected to see darken my doorway after what happened yesterday.” He’s watching me carefully, most likely thinking I have an ulterior motive for showing up bearing gifts of food and drink. 

“Why’s that?” I continue to smile innocently as I search fruitlessly for a clean surface to place said gifts. 

“Did you revoke my invitation or something ?” I finally place the cups on the floor and the pastries on the mattress, unable to stop my lips from rolling inward at the frown that crosses his face as I plop down next to the doughnuts. 

He’s completely still and silent for a few moments and I busy myself with opening the bakery bag, eyeing the doughnuts inside with interest. 

He finally puts his hands on his hips obviously trying to decide how he wants to approach the questions that are by now burning a hole in his vocal cords. I look up and slowly blink my eyes at him, and he clears his throat nervously before grabbing a roll of paper towels from a counter and offering them to me. 

“I only meant that when you left so suddenly yesterday…” 

I hand him a doughnut.

“You thought you’d never see me again?” I ask, raising my eyebrows and taking a sip of latte. 

“Well, no not exactly.” He was desperately trying to regroup, his clever mind no doubt furiously paging through his Brian Kinney Manual. He finally shrugs helplessly and takes a bite of the doughnut. “I’m sorry, I’m really glad to see you, Brian.” 

I nod approvingly and we eat together in silence. It’s the first normal interaction we’ve had since he’d left me and I shut my eyes briefly in relief and thanks. 

I rub some jelly off his lips. “I missed you.”

His tongue snakes out to lick the jelly off the pad of my thumb, but I pull away before he can suck it into his mouth. No sex for Sunshine quite yet, I’m afraid. 

He looks disappointed, then a little pissed when he realizes I really was just cleaning his face, not establishing some kind of hot foreplay. 

I can’t blame the lad, falling into a quick fuck no matter the circumstances has always been our default. 

I smile chastely, leaning forward to press a kiss on his lips, before standing up and brushing crumbs from my ridiculously expensive coat. 

“What the fuck, Brian?” he stands up with me, not too pleased that I apparently haven’t found him irresistible this morning. 

“I need to get into the office, but I needed to see you first.” His mouth hangs open slightly, so I slide my fingers through his hair before pulling him in tight, giving him a kiss that lets him know I still want him as much as ever. “Maybe we can get together tonight. Go to a movie.”

“Later.” I whisper, leaving him standing there, bemused and bewildered, one finger lightly tracing the spot where our lips had touched. 

 

As I drive across town toward Kinnetik, I think of how much easier everything was when he was the love struck twink and I was the asshole who didn’t give a shit. 

Except I had given a shit from the start, but I had been too fucking terrified to admit it, especially to him. 

He deserved so much more than I had been willing to give him in the past, now I was so fucking scared that I’d finally fuck it up for good, I almost lost my nerve completely.

But the bomb had been an excellent wake up call.

I wasn’t surprised that he rejected my proposal; the days were long gone when Justin Taylor would worship at the altar of the crumbs I’d throw him. 

This last time he’d left he said he was searching for something more than I could give him. That we were both moving in different directions, unwilling and unable to alter our courses to satisfy the other. 

I’d felt powerless against the Stepford fag mentality I so feared and loathed, until I realized his happiness was the key to mine.   
I was fucked and in love.

It was time to negotiate our future.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brian has to contend with Justin's doubts when he asks him to go out for a dinner....date.

I called him at lunchtime and got voicemail. That meant he was either painting or sulking, but I gave him the benefit of the doubt.

“Hey, Picasso, give me a call when you get this. It occurred to me that my suggestion of a movie date most likely traumatized you earlier.” I pause and imagine his expression when he hears this. “So instead I’d like to indulge your inner carnivore and take you out to Morton’s. How’s 7pm at your hovel sound?”

The entire dating situation was dangerously close to causing me erectile dysfunction, but Justin was fucking worth it.

He called me back when I was chewing Murph’s ass out about a shitty set of boards that crossed my desk for a second time without the requested revisions. Fucking interns.

“Hey.” I answered, actually feeling relieved that he had at least deigned to return my call. 

“You were right.” He said without wasting time on a greeting.”You really did freak me out this morning, although the doughnuts were a nice touch.” He laughs and I close my eyes, just enjoying the sound of his voice. “Dinner sounds great.” He hesitates and I hold my breath. “We need to talk.”

I leave Kinnetik early, ignoring Cynthia’s raised eyebrows when I saunter past her desk; gritting my teeth as her breezy, “Hot date, bossman?” follows me to the lobby.

Once I’m in the car heading back to the loft, I start to relax and by the time I get home, I realize I’m looking forward to spending the evening alone with Justin.

Before he’d left me this last time, we’d barely been connecting outside of the usual sex, and fuck knows that had suffered after my not-so-excellent adventure with syphilis.

I hadn’t been lying when I’d told him I’d missed him.

I check out the clothes in my closet, ruefully fingering my favorite club wear, wincing as the memory of the smoke-filled death box Babylon had become haunts me.

I had almost lost so much that night, and there wasn’t a fucking thing I could have done to prevent it. So much for the bullshit I always spouted about only worrying about myself.

What a cosmic fucking wake-up call.

I decide to go for casual yet totally fuckable, although I know that Sunshine is far from a sure thing tonight. 

Suits are for business, and being with Justin is pure pleasure.

I fuck around with my hair until I notice the time, cursing at myself for lesbianic primping as I rush across town to avoid being late. The last thing I want is to start the night with pouting from my favorite princess.

I’d considered buying him flowers for about two seconds, until I realized that aside from making me look like a pathetic breeder, Justin would have simply laughed his ass off at the gesture, which would have pissed me off. 

I settle for leaning in to give him a polite yet slow-burning kiss hello when he answers the door.

“Hey.” I say as I release his lips and he adds a powerful hug, pushing his soft hair into my face where I can take a covert moment to enjoy his scent without being obvious. 

“Hey.” He finally answers before letting go of me to grab his coat from somewhere behind him. “I wasn’t sure you’d show up.” He finally admits with an apologetic smile as I bristle at his confession.

“Why the fuck not?” I busy myself with brushing non-existent lint from my coat sleeves to mask my annoyance at his lack of faith.

“Well, Brian Kinney doesn’t do dates.” 

“Yeah, well the new Brian Kinney does whatever the fuck he wants to do, up to and including fucking dates.” I count to ten after my little queen-out and add ten more at the amusement I see crossing his face at my words. 

“And just how many dates has the new, improved Brian Kinney fucked anyway?” 

It was sort of a low blow, but then again, Justin had never really pulled his punches. I also knew that the little shit was testing me and wasn’t going to make this easy.

“None.” I decide to go for brutal honesty. “Yet.”

He actually looks surprised that I went for words and not actions, although my hands twitch to grab him, toss him on the bed, and fuck him blind. But I simply help him with his coat, pausing to smooth the collar, gripping his shoulders firmly, meeting his startled gaze head-on. “People can change, Sunshine.”

He lightly bites his bottom lip, seeming to consider his options, quickly deciding on a temporary retreat. “Okay.” 

He looks worried, so I kiss his nose, sliding an arm across his shoulders, steering him outside. 

“Don’t worry though, I can still fuck you all night long.”

He’s quiet on the way to the restaurant, and I don’t press him to make small talk. Some things would be too strange, especially for two people who have shared as much as we have, regardless of our current situation.

It seems to be the right choice, because by the time we pull up to valet parking, he has visibly relaxed, and I catch a glimmer of excitement on his face as the smell of grilled meat hits him. Some things will never change.

He smiles at me as I escort him to the entrance. 

It almost feels like forgiveness.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After much conversation and negotiation (and dessert), Brian and Justin reach a tentative compromise.

The ambiance inside the restaurant is subdued and the table I requested is tucked into an alcove, providing the illusion of privacy while still giving a fabulous view of the city lights. 

“Wow!” Justin seems to approve, and I feel slightly smug at impressing him. “This is awfully romantic.” He continues, blithely unaware that I had been shooting for intimate and tasteful, until I look at the way the candles light his face, and reluctantly agree with his definition. 

He catches me staring, and blushes, whispering a self-conscious “What?” as I reach across the table to lightly caress his hand.

He reacts like I held a lit match to his skin, pulling his hand away and rubbing the spot I had touched with the fingers of his other hand. 

“Brian, you are freaking me out here.” he whispers urgently across the table. “People can change, but I’m beginning to think you got a complete personality transplant.”

“Justin,” I’m a little annoyed at his reaction, but I know I have five years of fucking up to answer for where he is concerned, so I simply tell him to calm the fuck down, and order his favorite red wine from the waiter.

When the waiter walks away, Justin watches me closely and smirks as he catches me admiring the way the tight black uniform pants hug the guy’s ass. 

“What?” it’s my turn to ask, but fuck if I’m going to apologize for looking. 

“Nothing.” He answers, and I raise my eyebrows to encourage him to expand on that. “I’m glad to see some things stay the same.” Gesturing with his head in the direction the waiter went. “Are you going to fuck him?”

I sigh, rubbing the bridge of my nose in frustration. It’s going to be one long, fucking night. 

I know I deserve all the shit he’s dishing out, but for one brief, shining moment I’m nostalgic for a time when I would’ve indeed found a way to fuck that waiter. Preferably somewhere I could guarantee Justin would walk in mid-fuck as a reminder I answered to no one but myself and my dick.

“Brian.” He’s looking at me with a mix of regret and frustration, and I pull my thoughts back to the situation at hand. “I’m sorry, that last remark was unfair.” He places his hand back on the table, palm up. “Please, let me start over.”

I shrug casually, but take his hand, watching our fingers tangle loosely together on the white linen tablecloth.

I ruefully wonder just how far back Justin was planning to go to start over. Somehow I don’t think he was expecting to go back to the night Gus was born to clean the slate between us. 

The waiter comes back with our wine, and when he walks away, Justin squeezes my hand to get my attention. “He does have a nice ass.” 

I laugh approvingly, pulling his fingers to my lips, pleased at the lustful look that immediately crosses his face.

We swap heated stares for a few minutes, not quite eye fucking, only stopping when the waiter clears his throat politely beside us, ready to take our orders.   
Appetizers taken care of, he takes a careful sip of his wine, and I sense Sunshine is ready to get down to business. 

“You know you can’t just sweep all of our problems under the carpet, expecting them to disappear just because you think you’re ready to commit.” 

I understand his skepticism, especially since I was almost on a plane to Australia before my world suddenly and violently shifted on its axis.

I feel like he’s gotten a few steps ahead of himself, and not in a good way. 

Time to regroup.

“The last time you left me,” I see him flinch a little at my choice of wording, but a fucking spade is a spade, and he did fucking leave me again. “You said that to be a couple both people have to want the same things, to move in the same direction, otherwise they have nowhere left to go.” 

He nods, waiting for me to continue. “So why is it, now that I’ve told you I am ready, you’re not?”

I watch the surprise on his face with some amusement, wondering if maybe my aversion to talking about personal shit for all these years wasn’t slightly misguided on my part. 

He takes his time in answering and I appreciate that since I know that means he doesn’t have an automatic response for me. He obviously never expected me to push the commitment issue so far.

“Brian, the last few days have been traumatic.” He looks haunted and I’m pissed that homophobic whack jobs have managed to compromise his peace of mind regardless of his nonchalant reaction yesterday in his studio.

“I told you already, you‘re reacting to a horrific event and trying to regain control over your life.” He’s speaking intensely, believing absolutely in the crap spouting from his mouth.

If we were anywhere less public I would’ve been reminding Sunshine that I don’t need a fucking wedding ring to prove I’m in control. 

“You know the last time I checked, planning for the future is not some bullshit knee-jerk reaction.” I rise from my seat, kneeling beside him. “In fact, most people would find it eminently appropriate behavior after I realized how fucking empty life is without you.” 

“Brian, stop this.” He whispers, placing his hands on either side of my head, fingers stroking gently through my hair. “I understand you truly believe this is a permanent shift in your outlook on life, but I know it’s only temporary.” 

He shakes his head regretfully. “After a few months, you’ll be climbing the walls, feeling trapped by a domestic lifestyle that is unnatural and unappealing to you, plotting to push me off another of your notorious Kinney cliffs.” 

He smiles sadly. “I can’t go through that again, Brian. I won’t. I’ll always love you, but I need something more.”

I sit back on my heels, acknowledging the painfully accurate picture he was painting of the man I used to be, and the way I had expected him to accept me as I was just for the privilege of being with me.

“So, you’re saying that because you don’t believe that I could successfully change my fucked up ways, you won’t even give me a chance?” I was getting annoyed. “You know, you’re not the only one who would be taking a leap of faith here.” 

“What do you mean?” he asked, frowning.

“I’m taking a chance on love too.”

He closes his eyes, pressing his forehead against mine as though needing proof that I’m really still kneeling by his side. 

I pull back a few inches, placing two fingers lightly beneath his chin, waiting for him to open his eyes and see me. 

“Hey.” I say softly, brushing my thumb back and forth along his chin. “I’m here now, Justin, and what I am asking you for…what I need from you, is simple.” 

He leans into my touch, and for the first time I think I see hope creep into his gaze. 

“I need you to trust me.”

He looks slightly insulted and I bite off a laugh, which causes a now irate Sunshine to glare at me. “I’ve always trusted you, Brian. That was never in question from the night I met you.”

I stand up and move back to my seat, rolling my lips skeptically at his declaration. “Then what the fuck is the problem with giving me the benefit of the doubt this time?” 

He huffs out a huge sigh, delivering a rueful confession. “I’ve been trying to be independent, not relying on anyone but myself. And I’ve enjoyed it, although I have fucking missed you.”

Well, shit. I understand exactly what he is saying, and I was the last person to discourage a fag trying to make his own way in the world; but I was also a businessman skilled in the art of negotiation to close the deal and win the account.

“Alright. What if I took marriage off the table, replacing it with a semi-monogamous, yet relatively committed relationship?” He looks at me like I’d sprouted wings, but I saw the spark of hope brighten.

“Better.” He offers me a genuine smile. “But if you decide you like to cuddle, I may barf.”

I make him no promises, although where cuddling was concerned it really came down to semantics, but a compromise had been reached, at least for tonight.  
My inner ad executive decides to chill.

As the conversation and the wine flows, I watch with relief as the uptight, self-righteous twat he had become in recent weeks disappears, and the charming, focused, and flirty twat returns to me.

I find myself recalling other meals we had shared over the years, from Chinese take-outs on the floor to left-over Jambalaya at my seldom used dining table. 

Fuck! We had a semi-domestic history already. 

“Brian?” He looks at me curiously; no doubt I look like I swallowed something toxic.

“We almost made it work a few times, didn’t we?” I rub my fingers across my lips, wondering if my constant rejection of happiness and his apparent inability to be content wasn’t just some fucking cosmic joke.

He gets up and walks over to me, placing his hands on my shoulders, leaning forward to drape his warm body over mine. 

“I was wrong to give up on us this last time.” He drops a kiss on my cheek. “I let other people’s beliefs influence me.”

“You did what you needed to do, Justin.” No fucking locks, no apologies, but regrets to spare, at least on my part. 

“But I didn’t give you much warning, either.” He hugs me closer, and I cover his hands with mine. 

“It’s done and over.” This isn’t going to turn into one of Mel and Lindsay’s muncher melodramas, where we spend hours playing the blame game, before kissing and making up only to turn around and make the exact same mistakes again. 

At least with Justin, I’m pretty confident we’ll find new and different ways to fuck up every time.

He gives me one last squeeze and moves back to his side of the table. I see the waiter hovering in the background, obviously trying to decide if it’s safe to ask us about dessert, pretty well resigned to the fact that he’s not on the menu tonight. 

I catch Justin’s eye as I motion the waiter over, “I’m not trying to shut the conversation down, but I need a fucking break from our little heart-to-heart, Sunshine.” 

He smiles, looking down at the dessert menu; matters of the heart forgotten when it comes to the twat choosing the perfect torte.

He picks the highest calorie artery-clogging piece of crap on the menu, and I raise my eyebrows when he tells the waiter to bring two forks. 

“Trying to eat it twice as fast?” I ask, ignoring the way he rolls his eyes and sticks out his tongue at me. 

“No.” He simply states. “I just want to share something delicious with you.” 

I smirk at him suggestively, and whisper “Later”, secretly pleased when he laughs out loud, and suddenly my cock takes a keen interest in the proceedings.

“So tell me, Justin, do you put out on the first date?”

He’s licking the last of the frosting from his fork, tongue darting out enticingly to collect any remnants that may have escaped to the side of his mouth. 

I shift in my chair, pressing my palm over the bulge in my pants, being as discreet as is warranted in a public, breeder-infested restaurant, but my gaze never wavers from him. 

He knows I want him, but how far it goes tonight will be his decision. I’m willing to take it as slow as he needs to this time. 

No glossing over the real fucking issues, hoping for the best.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brian invites Justin up to the loft for a nightcap, and plans are made for a second date.

As we wait for valet parking to bring the car, he leans against me affectionately, and I pull him into the circle of my arms, his back fitting perfectly to my chest.  
I nuzzle my face into his neck, thankful that some things never change. 

I let him go reluctantly when the asshole parking attendant roars up in my highly sensitive, fucking expensive-to-maintain vehicle. 

I catch the little shit laughing into his hand as I shoot my normally quite effective death glare in the attendant’s direction. 

“Fucking teenagers.” I mutter as I peal wheels away from the curb.

“Impressive display of power.” Justin murmurs and I’m not sure if he’s talking about me or the Corvette. 

I smile over at him as his hand snakes over to the gearshift, fondling the large black knob that my hand just happens to be resting on before slouching down and spreading his legs as wide as the bucket seat allows.

I move my gloved hand from beneath his, reaching over to gently squeeze his after dinner wood. “I approve of your display of appreciation.” 

I try not to sound too desperate as I ask, “Can I interest you in a nightcap?” 

He lets out a little moan that’s hot as hell when I continue to stroke his cock in a not so subtle attempt to convince him to extend our evening into a happy ending for both of us. 

His tongue peeks out of his mouth, and he turns his hungry and lust-filled gaze slowly in my direction, causing an immediate positive reaction in my own libido.

I remember the night he came back to me after his brief foray into classical music fell flat, and the immense relief I felt when he slid into my arms again. 

“Take me home.” 

“Umm.” I’m not trying to be an asshole, but technically his home is a shit hole in the part of town shunned by most sane people. 

He realizes his mistake as soon as I do, and I feel marginally better that he referred to the loft as home, even though I know that his living arrangements will be a whole separate battle, hopefully for a different day.

“Your place.” He corrects and for a brief moment the stick returns to his ass.

“It’s okay.” I assure him, trying to avoid a minor princess meltdown. “The loft will always be your home.”

He looks at me doubtfully, but keeps his thoughts to himself for a welcome change. 

I remove my hand from his crotch, deciding to concentrate on getting us back to the loft as quickly as legally possible, before we step on any more potential land mines. 

It’s a grim reminder of why we always communicated better through fucking than through the more traditionally accepted means, like conversation.

I bravely try one more time as we pull into my parking spot. “I’m glad you’re here with me tonight.” 

I intercept his pleased smile, noting with relief that my dick stays hard.

He fidgets in the elevator until I am ready to blow him to calm him the fuck down. I actually start to take a step toward him when I realize we’ve reached our destination. 

He’s nervous but flirting with me, his gaze hot as he follows me out of the elevator. The little shit is checking out my ass, and I wonder if he thinks I’m going to let him fuck me tonight. 

An unlikely scenario on a good day. 

“God, I want to rim you.” He whispers in my ear as I’m unlocking the door.

I drop the keys.

He’s plastered to my back as I finally slide the door open, his hot little hands palming my ass boldly. 

I shrug him off with my coat, wondering what dating etiquette says should be done when your date just might be a slut. 

“Would you like something to drink?” I offer in my best host with the most voice. I head to the liquor cart knowing I need a stiff drink to go with my rock hard stiffie. 

“What?” Justin is looking like I just kicked his favorite puppy, but a date is a date, and I’m actually enjoying myself.

After a pregnant pause, he clears his throat, and puts his hand on my arm. “You’re freaking me out again.” 

“Why?” I ask trying to sound like a snotty, conceited Stepford fag. “Because I’m not trying to take advantage of you on our first date?”

“Knock it off.” He says, giving my arm a pinch. 

“Ow! I’m trying to treat you like a date, not a trick.” I grab his hand when he tries to pinch again. Soon we’re wrestling and giggling like two teenage girls. 

“Jesus Brian, as long as you’ll respect me in the morning, fuck me already!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I stand by the window, watching as the lights of the city slowly extinguish; the darkness taking over in the few hours left before the dawn. 

I take another pull on my cigarette, idly blowing smoke rings before me, listening to the muted sounds coming from my normally empty bedroom. 

He’s awake now, slightly revived after a few memorable rounds of sucking and fucking had him down and out for the count. 

I’d held him for countless minutes, breathing in his scent, memorizing the way it felt to have him lying next to me. 

Wanting to ask him to stay.

He’d finally stirred, nuzzling the top of his head into my armpit, pressing a soft kiss onto my chest.

“Hey.” He’d yawned, blue eyes staring sleepily into mine. “You’re pretty good at this dating thing.”

“I’ve been told I have many natural talents,” I crooked my arm until I could ruffle his blond bedhead. “Perhaps I should add dating to the list.”

“Well, I can’t give you a solid seal of approval until I’ve done a little more research.” He started to sit up, but I pulled him back down until his lips were within reach. 

“Give me a lift?”

“Sunshine, you’ve still got your girlish figure, but I’m too fucking tired to get that physical.” I’d sat up then, a feeling of unease beginning to make me feel antsy. 

“Not that kind of lift.” He’d stood up, bending back down to briefly kiss me, fingers trailing their way down my chest and stomach before he walked toward the bathroom. “I meant drive me to my place, duh.”

I watched his ass disappear behind the bathroom door, as I wondered what the fuck had just happened.

I grabbed my cigarettes, and that’s how I ended up admiring the city view.

I lift my eyes and stare blankly into the night sky, sensing his presence behind me, as always, a few seconds before his arms encircle my waist.

“Brian, don’t do this.” He rubs his face across my naked back, pressing kisses along my spine, until his chin perches on my shoulder. “I can’t spend the night here. I have an early meeting with a gallery owner across town, and I need to show him my portfolio, which happens to be at my place.” 

I feel marginally better, and stub out my cigarette, suddenly seeing our reflection emerge from the darkness.

I drive him back across town, his hand on my thigh grounding me, reminding me that this pre-dawn excursion isn’t due to rejection, but I’m slightly disgruntled anyway.

“So, did this gallery find you through Lindsay?” I ask him, trying to keep my mind occupied with something other than the way his skin tasted after I’d spread his come across his chest.

“No.” He answers, and I glance at him quickly, the excitement in his voice catching my interest for real. “This gallery contacted me because of the review in Art Forum magazine. I did this one on my own.”

I hear the pride in his tone, and I’m so fucking happy for him, I know how much shit he’s had to overcome to get to this point in his life. 

“Justin, that’s fucking awesome.” I reach over and squeeze the nape of his neck, turning the touch into an impromptu massage. “Do you think they’ll offer you a solo show?” 

He turns to me eagerly. “I hope so. It’s a pretty big gallery. They’re part of a network of galleries, and could decide to offer me shows across the country.”

“Holy Shit!” Apparently, I’m not very eloquent at 4am.

I offer to walk him up to his shoebox, but he shakes his head, leaning across the seat to say good-night to my tonsils instead. 

“I had a terrific time.” He says quite sincerely. “You really do know how to make a guy feel special.” 

“You are special.” I stroke my thumb across his lips, wondering how much longer he’d be within touching distance now that the art world was starting to take notice of his extraordinary talent. 

He simply smiles, adding, “Wish me luck!” as he gets out. 

“I wish you nothing but happiness.” 

I watch until he disappears.

I’m back in the loft for all of five minutes when I hear my cell ringing from across the room. I stop trying to decide between bed and booze, and jog over to nonchalantly check it out. 

I ignore the fucking fluttering in my stomach when I see the display, answering with a totally neutral and non-emotional, “Kinney.” 

“Hey,” His voice is husky, like it gets after he’s had too little sleep and too much fucking. “You realize I’m expecting a second date, right?” 

I rub my hand across my forehead, clearing my throat before I speak, “How about tonight?”

“Tonight would be perfect.” He sounds like he’s purring, and I can picture him stretching his arms over his head in satisfaction, which is the moment I would normally pounce on him if he was naked in my bed right now.

“Twink’s choice?” I ask him, tongue in cheek. 

“Even more perfect.” He’s flirting his blond boy ass off, and I find it oddly endearing that he can make me miss him so much after less than thirty minutes apart. 

“Will you pack your toothbrush?” Two can play the flirting game, Sunshine. 

He laughs his agreement. 

“But forget your underwear.”

He catches his breath, and his voice has deepened sexily when he recovers enough to speak. “Will you let me fuck you?” 

“I said Twink’s choice, not Twink’s delusion’s fulfilled.” I don’t want him to think things will change that drastically, although he does owe me a rim job that I’ll be sure to collect on. 

“Haha, very funny, Brian.” Now he sounds smug, and challenged. Yeah, at some point soon, my ass will be his; no one loves a challenge more than Justin. 

“Happy to amuse you, Sunshine.” I take another chance. “How’s a weekend getaway tickle your funnybone?”

There’s dead silence from his end, and I glance at the phone to be sure we’re still connected. “Justin?” 

I hear a slight wheeze, followed by a cough. “Sorry, did you say you want to go away for the weekend?”

“Yes.” I pause and add thoughtfully. “Is there a problem with that?” 

“No.” He answers quickly as though afraid I might take it back. “Where are we going?” 

“I wish I could say a clothing optional resort, but even I can’t swing that this time of year.” I smile at the thought though. “This is just a short drive away.”

I can tell he is squirming impatiently by the noise in the background. I’m surprised by how pleased I am that he’s excited, but in the next second I feel like shit that I never took him anywhere all the other times we were together. 

I really did suck at this relationship crap. 

“Oh My God, Brian!” I wince as he shouts into the phone. “Where are we going?”

I could make him guess, but I see dawn breaking through the loft windows, and I know he has to get ready for his meeting. 

“Sorry, Sunshine. It’s a secret.” 

He doesn’t give up, but now that I’ve decided to embrace the art of being a boyfriend, I realize a little mystery is healthy in a relationship. 

“Justin!” I finally use the tone of voice I haven’t used since he was a seventeen-year-old schoolboy, thrust upon me due to that series of unfortunate events, starting with his psycho father trying to fucking kill me. 

It still works though, shutting him up with only a slight huff of breath.

“Just pack some shit, and bring it to Kinnetik later. We can buy anything you don’t bring when we get there.” 

“Why Kinnetik? Are we leaving from there?” He sounds puzzled, but there is a valid reason I want him to stop by my office, other than a booty call, or a lesbianic need to see his face. 

“It would save time if we did.” I explain. “I’ll bring an extra suitcase for you.” 

“But I have my duff—“

He starts to argue, but I cut him off. 

“No! Not the fucking black duffle bag! Bring it and it’ll burn!” There’s shocked silence for a beat before he reacts, but he recovers quickly. 

“Okay, I promise. No fucking black duffle bag.”

I bid him adieu a few minutes later, wishing him luck on his meeting, before falling onto my bed in an exhausted stupor. My mind wanders to that first morning after we met when he was the twink that nearly wore me out. 

Talk about extreme foreshadowing.

But he was also the kid who never let others keep him down or dictate the way he should live his life. 

He was fearless and fierce, and a total brat.

Was I seriously looking forward to turning the Care and Feeding of Justin Taylor into a lifelong commitment?

I was so fucked.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brian and Justin embark on a short road trip to their weekend getaway.

I stumble into Kinnetik at about 10am, ignoring Cynthia’s shit-eating grin only because she has a fucking super-size latte waiting on my desk. 

Her grin becomes downright jubilant when I toss a notepad with a few scribbled directions at her five minutes later. 

“Cynthia?” She glances up with a knowing smirk. “I know its short notice, but—“

“Say no more.” She breaks in confidently, tapping her manicured nail on my notes. “This will be a pleasure to arrange.”

“Thanks.” I say sincerely, returning to my office. “Hold my calls. I need a fucking nap.”

Her mocking laughter follows me inside.

I awaken suddenly, disoriented for a few seconds until I realize I’m in my office. 

Shit! I hadn’t needed nap time at work since my fun-filled cancer days. I intercom Cynthia and have her add a few special appointments to her list.

“It’s already booked.” She assures me, once again anticipating my needs in that borderline disquieting way of hers; but who am I to complain about someone that pays attention to details obsessively?

I open a desk drawer, removing a brochure that is dog-eared and coffee-stained, hesitating only briefly before chucking it in the trash. 

Not this fucking time, Vermont!

I knew he was finally here when I hear my tough-as-fucking-nails assistant squealing like a fangirl in excitement from her desk. 

“Justin, hi!” I knew she was mauling him by her muffled tone. “Go right in. He should be done his nap by now.” I mentally page through my ninth grade science book, searching for the perfect formula that would take care of Cynthia’s obviously loose lips. 

“Nap?” I rub my temples to stave off my rapidly emerging stress headache, as I hear a teasing note enter his voice. 

“Yeah. His hot date apparently wore him out last night.”

Bitch.

He knocks on my door, entering without waiting, shit-eating grins seeming to be contagious today judging by the expression on his face. 

“Good, you’re awake.” He raises an eyebrow, gesturing at my rumpled appearance and bedhead. 

He walks around the desk, moving my chair back with his hip until he is standing between my legs, ass on the latest Brown Athletics proposal. He leans in, sliding his tongue into my mouth, humming his pleasure as I suck it in greeting. “Mmmmm!” 

I grab the back of his head, deepening the kiss, only pulling back when his pillowcase hits the floor.

I look down in horror at the rainbow-striped pillowcase, bulging with his idea of appropriate clothing for a weekend trip. 

“What the fuck is that?” I’m compelled to ask, much to his growing amusement. 

“My clothes and other essentials for our secret weekend retreat.”

I’m momentarily distracted by his tongue again, but the rainbow-colored mess on my floor eventually wins out. 

“You realize our trip is not to the fucking Land of Oz, right?” I cup his ass in my hands, pulling him down onto my lap. 

“Too bad.” He laughs, tousling my hair gently. “I packed my ruby dildo.”

He shifts on my lap, pressing his hard cock against mine, slipping his hand inside my pants until I grunt as his fingers encircle my own raging hard-on. 

“Good thing I packed your blue leather cock ring and emerald studded paddle so I can give you a hot, red ass to match that dildo.” 

His answer is to slide to his knees, open my pants, and deep-throat my cock. I cradle his head against my groin, clutching his hair in my hands, watching the golden strands slide sensuously between my fingers.

“This time will be different.” I promise him solemnly.

I shoot my load into his mouth and he stands up, quickly leaning back down to claim my lips, sharing my seed between us, and I'm hopeful he sees it as a symbolic acknowledgement that he believes that we just might be moving forward in the same direction this time. 

“Tell me where we’re going.” He demands, as we rock slowly back and forth in my Italian leather executive chair, making out like a pair of teenagers in a darkened movie theater. 

“No fucking way.” I tease him, nuzzling my nose into the soft skin beneath his ear. 

“Tell me, Brian!” He threatens ominously, “Or I tickle!”

He places his fingers along my ribcage, and I’m so fucking relieved that the Justin who first came back from California has returned from his unexpected journey to the Island of Uptight Fags, that I’m laughing before he has a chance to follow through on his threat. 

I put up a half-hearted fight, but it’s almost time for us to leave, so I pretend to let him win.

“Okay, okay.” I push him off my lap, heading into my bathroom to change clothes. “Remember Vermont?” 

He looks at me in horror; I kiss his forehead. 

“Relax. We’re not going there.”

I hand him the Prada Saffiano leather travel bag I had couriered over from Neiman-Marcus, instructing him to transfer his munchkin wear from the ‘Over the Rainbow’ collection at The Gap, into my exquisitely crafted gift to him. 

“Fuck you, Brian.” He retorts mildly, but I catch him caressing the soft leather surreptitiously.

His mother raised him to appreciate the finer things in life, and someday, with my continued positive reinforcement, his youthful rebellious nature will finally acquire some taste as well.

I exit the bathroom, casually yet expensively attired. 

I preen as his lustful gaze tracks me.

Positive reinforcement.

I cast a suspicious eye around the room, wondering where the rainbow has gone. “You didn’t pack that hideous pillowcase, did you?”

He walks up, running a proprietary hand over my Armani black silk sweater, obviously enjoying its tight fit as his fingers linger, circling my nipples. “Very nice.” He breathes, but I’m not being distracted quite yet.

“Justin?” I bite back a moan as he travels behind me to check the even tighter fit of my D&G black jeans.

“Relax.” He laughs, pressing his lips to my ear. “Ted has it. I asked him to return it to Emmett.”

I turn and grab him, pulling him into my arms, kissing him breathless. “Good boy!” I praise him warmly. “Ready to go?” 

“Always.” He purrs, palming my balls as he walks past me to the door. “Even when I don’t know where we are going.” 

I catch up to him as he reaches the parking lot, watching him frown in confusion when he doesn’t see the Corvette. 

“Are we taking a cab to the airport?” He fishes around, trying to figure out mode of transportation to get a clue to our destination.

“No planes or trains for this trip.”

He follows obediently behind as I head farther into the parking lot, stopping dead in his tracks when he lays his eyes on my newest sweet ride. 

“Wow!” he breathes, wrapping his arms around my waist as I introduce him to my contribution to preserving the environment. “What is it?”

I sigh dramatically, secretly glad he’s a clueless fag when it comes to cars.

“It’s a Porsche Cayenne SUV.” I announce proudly. “Hybrid.” I add as a bonus.

“That’s some boyfriend replacement therapy.” he notes, smiling slyly. 

I glare at him stonily.

“Don’t be upset, Brian. Believe me, I’m flattered.”

I’m still a little annoyed that my purchase was so transparent, but I warm up when he caresses the hood suggestively, and leans in towards the windshield to glance inside. “It’s got a lot of fucking room for fucking.” He smiles and blinks at me suggestively.

“Time to go.” I announce, pressing him gently…carefully…against the shiny black vehicle. I kiss him confidently, than whisper solemnly in his ear. “You could never be replaced, Justin.”

He makes a strangled sound in his throat at my words, but his fingers are warm as they find and join tightly with mine.

We’re well ahead of the weekend rush out of the city, and the GPS softly advising of turns and exits is the only sound heard for the first thirty minutes of our trip. 

The silence is a good one though, and after playing with the ergonomic controls for his seat, and a careful examination of the sound system, Justin settles down and watches me drive, his head leaning against the window tiredly. 

“You can take a nap if you’re tired.” I offer quietly, knowing how little sleep he got last night. “It’s about a two hour drive from the Pitts.”

He acknowledges my words with a bemused smile, snuggling down lower into his heated seat. “I could get used to this, you know?” 

“What? Being driven around in a Porsche like a true princess?” I tease him fondly. 

“Well, that and feeling like I matter.” He places his hand lightly on my thigh to take some of the sting out of his words.

“You’ll always matter, Justin.” I grip the steering wheel just a little bit tighter. “Even if you decide I’m not what you need.”

He looks hurt, but stays silent. I’m satisfied he doesn’t immediately deny the possibility. 

“You’re right.” He finally responds, somewhat reluctantly. “There have been times I’ve thought I needed something more than you could give…” he pauses and shakes his head ruefully. “Correction…more than you would give me, but it seems like what I really need is to learn to be a little more patient, and a little less insistent.” 

“You can lead a horse to water--,” I start, letting him know we can move beyond the blame game again. 

I want to cheer him up again, so I artfully change the subject. “Do you still want to know where we are going?” 

He takes a closer look around at the snow-covered countryside. “At the risk of making your dick soft; where we go isn’t important, as long as we’re together.”

I feel my chest tighten at his sentimental words, and contrary to his fears, my dick twitches happily in agreement. 

“It’s a place called Fallen Rock at Nemacolin.” I begin. Actually, it’s a five star world class resort, but I’m not sure if he’s familiar. One look at his face, and I see I am dead fucking wrong. 

“Oh my God! “ He squeals. “The Hardy Family Art Collection is housed there.”

I have no fucking idea what he is talking about, but I think he may have just had a spontaneous orgasm.

“How did you know?” He asks, gracing me with an adoring glance I haven’t seen since his stalker days. I consider lying, but I have a decent track record with him where truth is concerned, barring Ibiza, so I admit I was clueless about the art angle. “But I still expect the same fringe benefits that would have come if I’d known these things in advance.”

He smiles hungrily, and proves just how spacious the Porsche’s front seat is.

One superior blowjob and countless miles of snow-covered countryside later, Justin is snoring softly beside me, and I catch a glimpse of my face in the rearview mirror, and nearly run off the fucking road. 

There is a totally foreign expression reflected back at me, and I reluctantly admit it might possibly be labeled contentment. 

I pull off onto the shoulder of the road, waiting for the moment when I realize I have turned into a dickless fag, a hapless het-like homo, but all I do is watch Justin sleeping, and feel relief that we’re taking another chance on together. 

He stirs and stretches, looking confused when he glances around and only sees deserted highway around us. “What’s wrong? Car trouble?” He smiles at me uncertainly, and I wonder what he reads in my expression. “Are you okay?” He starts to look concerned, so I pull my shit together quick and give him a helpless shrug.

“I’m fine. Just a little tired, I guess.” I tap the GPS and announce we’re about five miles away from the resort. 

He’s still staring at me, but he places his hand on the back of my neck, and massages lightly. “Having second thoughts?” 

“No, Justin. No second thoughts.” He looks skeptical, so I do my best to convince him. “I was actually just thinking how fucking right this feels.” 

“Really?” His sunshine smile makes an appearance, and suddenly I need to cover those last five miles fucking fast or risk spending the night fucking him right here on the side of the road. I haven’t completely lost my mind yet, and a $900 a night suite is infinitely more appealing than the back seat of my Porsche right now.

“Yeah, really.” I lean in and kiss him briefly. “Your ridiculously expensive castle awaits.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brian and Justin get settled in at the resort.

Thirty minutes later, he’s wandering through the suite, admiring the original artwork on the walls, stroking his fingers lightly over the smooth surfaces of the glossy high-end furniture, before turning to me with a wide grin at the sight of the huge fucking king size bed that is situated to look out over the balcony to the world class, now snow-covered greens of the golf course beyond. 

He snatches one of the chocolates off the hopefully hypoallergenic down pillows, popping it in his mouth, turning toward me and sharing it as he presses the melting square against my tongue. 

I accept the gift, sucking it off his tongue, lingering there until I hear him moan, and the kiss turns hard, rough and hungry. 

I raise my hands to rest on his shoulder and push, forcing him to move until the back of his knees press against the silk duvet that’s draped across the bed, watching him fall onto the mattress, the midnight blue of the sheets framing his golden beauty perfectly. 

I know how this sounds, and I admit that some part of me is cringing at the Hallmark worthy sentiments that seems to be invading my brain like a romantic vine recently, but just because I find him beautiful and admit it to myself doesn’t mean I’m not going to fuck his sweet ass all night long on various surfaces located throughout this luxurious and extremely expensive suite. 

He reaches up and pulls me on top of him, fingers nimbly sliding my sweater over my head, hands immediately smoothing their way down my spine to rest on my ass. “I need you inside of me now.” He’s always a demanding little shit when he gets riled up, and apparently those tiny chocolates have an aphrodisiac effect on blond twats. 

I loosen my jeans and he shoves them off my ass, using his legs to work my legs totally free of the offending garment. He palms my hard cock, cupping it firmly, letting the slick wetness coat his hand before pulling it back to his mouth and licking it clean. I’ve got a condom ready and waiting for him, and he slips it on my dick efficiently, grinding his own erection against my hip restlessly as I position myself over his hot, tight hole. 

“Fuck me hard!” he begs, the fierce look on his face as I push inside his sweet heat belying the fact that at the moment he is on the bottom. His fingers are digging into my shoulders, and I know I’ll have marks there come morning. It’s a fucking hot thought, and I pull out and slam back in roughly, knowing that when Sunshine likes to get fucked hard, anything less than a brutal pace and some deep thrusting and those marks on my back will be joined by bite marks on whatever piece of me Justin’s teeth can reach.

I press my lips against his brutally, invading his mouth and relishing the moans and grunts that we are making together like a call and answer of the fucking wild. He breaks free to draw a deep breath, and I move on to his neck and shoulders, all while keeping up a punishing rhythm in his clenching ass. 

I hold him down by his arms, nipping at his naked skin, relishing the feel of his dick sliding against the sweat and slick combined on our stomachs. 

He’s tensing up and his cries are sounding more urgent, so I pick up the pace to the finish line, balls slapping against his ass, fingers buried in his silky hair now, as I feel my own orgasm exploding from my nuts. He’s right there with me, shooting warm ribbons of his come between our already dampened torsos, and we’re off to a fabulous start to the weekend, boys and girls.

A few minutes later there is discreet knock on the door, so I throw on my jeans, grinning as I see the look on Justin’s face as he pulls the comforter up over his naked ass. 

“Who the fuck is that?” he asks with a frown, no doubt expecting me to have ordered a twink or two to come and join us in an orgy. I really do have a sordid reputation in the lad’s mind, sadly. 

“Probably the butler.” I answer nonchalantly as though it is the most natural thing in the world. 

His mouth gapes open as I unlock the door to a man dressed in an impeccably tailored black suit, pushing a silver serving cart before him, chilling bottle of champagne and bowl of chocolate-covered strawberries perched elegantly on top. 

“Good evening, Mr. Kinney.” He greets me, bowing his head slightly in respect. “My name is Peters, and my job is to make sure your weekend is nothing less than a perfect experience for you and your guest.” 

He looks beyond me and nods to Justin, who looks like he is about to explode with questions about this resort that has a personal butler assigned per suite. But he is still a WASP at heart, and he regally acknowledges Peters with a haughty lift of his chin that reminds me of his days as an annoying teen-aged brat, making me wish we had brought his old St. James uniform along for some role-playing fun. 

“I’ve brought you some light refreshments this evening,” he says, smiling as Justin eyes the strawberries hungrily. “But I can also arrange to have something prepared for you if you’d like something a little more substantial.” 

I snort at the thought of Justin turning down the offer of a meal, and I’m not disappointed when the twat proceeds to order a cheeseburger and fries, with an egg white omelet which I assume is for me.

I walk over to the bed and plant a kiss on his lips before asking in a concerned voice, “Are you sure that’ll be enough to keep you alive until morning?” 

“We’ll just have to hope for the best, I guess.” He slides his fingers from my abdomen to my chest suggestively. “I plan on working up quite an appetite tonight.” 

Peters clear his throat after I spend a few minutes letting my tongue explain to Justin how appealing I find his plan, and his tip increases exponentially for his patient, non-homophobic attitude. 

I step back from Justin’s mouth reluctantly, giving my attention back to Peters, pressing a large bill into his hands, and quietly adding a bowl of whipped cream and another bottle of the bubbly to our order. I know he’s a sure thing, but a slightly inebriated Justin is always just that much more creative sexually, and God knows we both need to kick back and relax after the hell of the past week.

The door no sooner shuts behind Peters when I’m jumped from behind by my very happy lover, who I discover is not trying to molest me, but instead is trying to get past me so he can imbibe in the spirits and sweets our private butler has left behind. 

I hold firm against his onslaught for a moment, cheek turned to the side in a not-so-subtle hint that he can show a little fucking gratitude any time now.

He rolls his eyes and presses a kiss to my cheek, purring something suitably thankful in my ear, promising me the wonders of the sexual universe as soon as he’s had a chance to sample his snack before dinner. 

“It’s fucking awesome, Brian.” He’s sitting cross-legged on the bed, naked and content, champagne in danger of spilling onto the duvet as he dives into the silver bowl to snag another chocolate-covered strawberry. “I’ve never had a manservant before.” 

He holds the strawberry out invitingly, and I play along, crawling toward him on all fours, slipping my head onto his lap, opening my mouth to let him feed me. “Yeah, and with your showplace of an apartment that’s hard to believe.” 

“Shut up!” he protests in mock anger, carding the fingers of one hand through my hair, while aiming some champagne in the general direction of my mouth, leaning in to lick the corners of my lips, where some of the sweet liquid has dripped. “Mmmm.” He’s well on his way to being toasted, and I’m well on my way to shoving my dick in his mouth to properly clean his palate before dinner.

“You’re a high maintenance little fucker, aren’t you Sunshine?” I ask him rhetorically, simply stating the obvious, as our tongues tangle together in a chocolaty mess.

“Absolutely.” He breathes against my lips, nipping lightly as he works his way down toward my neck. “I really want to fuck you.” He moans needily, hard cock pushing restlessly against the nape of my neck. 

“Suck me off first.” I offer a perfectly rational compromise, knowing that the promise of my ass as prize will guarantee me a take-no-prisoners blow job with a matching rim job as a fucking bonus. 

Thirty minutes later, and this time Justin is the one who grants access to Peters and his hungry twink late night snack. Apparently the strawberries and my ass were simply appetizers after all.

I’m lying on my stomach, head resting on my folded arms, unable to move after Justin sucked, fucked, rimmed and rammed me to the brink of sexual immolation. A few minutes longer and those urban legends about spontaneous human combustion would have become urban fact right here in this very room. 

Justin flashes me his trademark grin as he opens the lids of the warming platters after Peters has made his exit for the evening, wishing us both a pleasant night. 

“Brian.” He’s uncovered the bowl of whipped cream and is looking decidedly predatory as its many creative uses obviously fill his debauched little head. “I didn’t order this.” He is using the most playful and flirty voice in his impressive repertoire of suggestive tones. My cock would be sitting up and taking a keen interest if he hadn’t just so eagerly demonstrated how much he had missed me, my cock, and most especially, it seems, my ass. 

“Well,” I mumble weakly from my comfortable spot on the bed, “that’s actually for me.” He raises a skeptical eyebrow waiting for me to elaborate. “I intend to use it to top my Create-Your-Own-Sunshine-Sundae.” He laughs and calls me a freak as he starts to devour his French fries en masse. 

“What?” I challenge him as I stretch out on my side to watch him eat. “It’s a fucking house specialty.” I shut my very heavy eyelids for a moment, the events of the past week finally threatening to drag me down and out for the count at last.

“Hey.” I hear his soft voice near my ear, and feel his warm hands ghosting across my tired muscles soothingly. “Why don’t you just relax and try to get some sleep?”   
If I had been awake and alert, and bombs hadn’t just blown apart what little remaining defenses I had against him, the next words out of his mouth would have earned him cruel and unusual punishment in my not-so-glorious past. “Let me take care of you for a change.” But sometimes a man needs to know when to trust in his partner, and tonight was one of those times. 

The last thing I felt before I drifted into blissful oblivion were his lips lightly touching mine.

I open my eyes and for a moment I think I’m back at the loft, alone in my bed, the way I preferred to sleep before he came along.

I blink into the inky darkness, remembering the first morning I woke up with him lying beside me. He’d looked so fucking innocent, even though I had done my best to change that during the course of the night. 

I feel a familiar warmth against my side, and I smile as I realize that he’s back in my bed once more; that if I can prove to him that he does fucking matter to me; more than anyone else ever has in my life, then maybe there is still a chance that he’ll stay this time. I don’t want to fuck it up again, because the next time he walks away, I know it will be forever. 

Forever. 

I frown as I consider the ramifications of forever. It‘s a concept that really has no meaning to me. Nothing lasts forever. It‘s an irrefutable fact of life, and to be honest, transience had always been my preferred method of dealing with people. Get them in and out of my life with the minimum of bullshit, even keeping the ones I allow to stay at arm’s length, the way my mother had taught me so well. 

Forever is bullshit.

Forever is bullshit because there is always a fucking bomb or baseball bat or terminal illness lurking around a random corner that threatens to obliterate forever just when you think it’s safe. But…as a concept that I am forced to admit I cannot control…well, maybe it is worth a shot…with him.

Justin shifts restlessly beside me, and I tighten my arm around his shoulder, lightly stroking his skin with the tips of my fingers, listening to his quiet breathing which would usually lull me back to sleep; but not this time. 

I start to get a little twitchy, so I pull away from him slowly, careful not to wake him since I know he probably has had less sleep than I had over the past few days. I fumble around on the nightstand until I find my cigarettes, walking over to the wall of glass that looks out over the snow-covered golf course. It’s still early as fuck, and there is only the weakest of moonlight just barely breaking through the clouds to light my way. 

I stand there staring across the frozen expanse of dirt and grass that’s buried beneath the deceptively peaceful blanket of snow, knowing full well how sometimes appearances can be very misleading.

I blow a few smoke rings into the chilly air, glancing thoughtfully at the figure asleep in the bed, knowing full well that despite his twink-like exterior, Justin has a strength at his core and a moral compass that never wavers; aside from his brief foray into vigilantism, and after all the shit he’d gone through he deserves a fucking free pass for his Pink Posse days.

I walk back over to the bed and sit on the edge of the mattress, my hand resting lightly on his leg, covered in the soft caress of ludicrously expensive sheets. I suddenly find myself thinking about the meeting he had with that gallery owner before we left and I wonder somewhat uneasily why he didn’t bother to tell me how it went. I feel him start to stir and I realize that I had unconsciously tightened my grip on his leg, so I try to relax and not jump to any fucked up conclusions.  
“Brian.” His voice is sleep-roughened and makes him sound sexy as fuck, but I rein myself in since I am still brooding over the fact that he didn’t talk my ear off about the meeting which is what he used to do before I taught him to be wary of my shitty temperament. 

I knew he had never been afraid to talk to me, but I also knew that most of the time I let him think I didn’t give a fuck about anything that didn’t involve his ass and my dick. Even before he had left me this last time, he had ceased sharing the little details that made up his daily life with me; it was no wonder he had decided being alone was better than living with my self-centered ass. 

But in truth I had cared about the details of Justin’s life far longer than I would ever admit to him…even now. I couldn’t go back and change the way I had treated him and somehow after all this time, I doubted he would welcome such a confession with open arms. More than likely he would tell me that I am fucking unbelievable and laugh in my lesbianic face. I had a hunch that It was not my lot in life for my newly sensitive nature to be appreciated any time soon.

“Brian.” He was sitting up now, peering into the murky darkness, trying to see my expression in the dim half-light that was starting to break through the window. 

“What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing.” I answer instinctively, stubbing out what was left of my long forgotten cigarette, and sliding closer to him. 

“Bullshit.” He answers immediately, softening the word by reaching out and rubbing my back soothingly. It feels really nice, so I shut my eyes and enjoy the sensation, realizing that he was the only one who could chase some of my demons away with a simple touch. “You’re freaking out over something.” He leans in against my side, and pushes his face next to mine, nuzzling into my cheek like a kitten…or a fucking mountain lion scenting its prey. 

“How did your meeting go yesterday?” Not very subtle, but I think I’ve mentioned before that I’m not very eloquent at 3am. 

He goes very still, and then huffs out a breath that could be amusement or consternation. I’ve been known to elicit both responses from him in the past. 

“How long have you been sitting here in the dark brooding over this?” He places a hand on my chest and pushes until my back is resting against the headboard. He straddles my hips and runs his fingers through my bed head. I shut my eyes again, too relaxed to remind him that I do not fucking brood, and I was simply curious, forget I fucking gave a shit. Instead I hear my voice telling him that what he’s doing with his fingers feels fucking awesome. 

He answers by first licking, then biting at my lower lip, following up with a slow kiss that pulls a moan from somewhere deep within my chest. He continues his assault on my defenseless lips for several minutes, adding his tongue into the mix at some point, only pulling back to allow us to both take a much needed breath before continuing his exploration of my mouth. 

“You really do love me, don’t you?” he whispers the words against my lips, and I try to answer him but he suddenly pins my hands over my head, shifting his lower body, starting to slowly slide his cock over mine, and I am lost in a maze of desire and need. 

He has no idea that I’ve loved him all along.

I don’t answer him, although I have done just about everything except profess my undying love to him over the course of the last twenty-four hours; there are some things that can’t be broken free even in the aftermath of a bomb. 

I let him remain on top, my fingers smoothing their way slowly down his back until I reach the crack of his ass. He moans as I idly caress my way further, my thumbs pressing against his tight little hole until he pushes back trying to get me to breach the entrance. 

I feel him shiver as I whisper how much I love to fuck his ass, whether it’s with my fingers, or my tongue, or my nine-inch dick. He squirms restlessly, turned on by the sex talk he knows I only share with him. I pull my thumbs free to deliver a light smack to his ass, telling him to stay still until I tell him to move. 

His eyes in the dim light of the breaking dawn are hazy with lust, it’s been a long time since we’ve played together this way. I ask him if he missed feeling me move inside of him while we were apart. He nods his head, bending down to push his tongue deeply into my mouth in apology. 

I open my mouth wider, welcoming the taste of his lips and the mixing of our saliva. He grunts with pleasure as I press two fingers from each of my hands into his ass, spreading him in a manner that no doubt causes him some pain from the rapid stretching, but he cups my face in his hands, devouring my mouth in a way that lets me know how turned on he is by the rough preparation. 

There will always be a part of both of us that needs the pain to remind us that we’re still alive; that bashings and bombs, cancer and career choices can’t take away our basic right to fuck whoever we want, breeders and homophobes be damned.

He grabs a condom and slips it on my dick, jerking himself off and using the slick that drips from his own cock to lube my dick. It’s hot as fuck to see him spread his ass cheeks and start to slide slowly down my shaft, his tight warm hole surrounding my cock, his tongue peeking out one corner of his mouth as he relishes the feeling of fullness that he’s always loved from the time I popped his cherry. 

He takes my entire length and leans back slightly, catching his breath in a gasping moan as the angle shifts, apparently taking his enjoyment to a whole new level. He opens his eyes to watch me as he begins to move, knowing how much I get off on the way he fucks himself on my cock. His expression changes from ecstasy to ferocity, and I moan like a whore when he brings his palms down to rest on my chest, his fingernails scraping across my nipples adding just the hint of roughness that we both seem to need once in a while. 

It doesn’t take long before we are both spent and panting, lying together watching the sun come up over the frozen tundra that covers the greens. He nuzzles against my neck, getting ready to drift back to sleep while I twist a strand of his hair around my fingers absently as I realize he never answered my question about that fucking meeting. 

I clear my throat and decide there is no time like the present to practice those communication skills that everyone says I lack when it comes to my personal fucking relationships. 

“So when do you leave?” I aim for a casual tone, not wanting to appear confrontational in case my hunch is wrong. 

I feel him tense beside me, and I wince, knowing he can’t see my expression, and I feel a pain in my stomach as I take his non-verbal response as confirmation. 

“What?” he pulls back and tries to get a good look at my face, which I know from experience is neutral and composed for the moment. “Where do you think I’m going?” 

I shoot him a quick glance, and he narrows his eyes at my expression. I sigh. I guess I need to work on my nonchalant, just-making-idle-conversation face. 

“Mmmm…I’m thinking a tour of these great United States as the newest emerging artist for that national string of galleries you met with yesterday.” 

He looks startled, confirming my suspicions that the interview went well enough that they made him an offer of some sort, obviously pretty fucking close to my educated guess. 

“Justin.” I brush his disheveled hair off of his face, leaving my fingers tangled there as I speak. “You are a talented artist and this co-op, or whatever the fuck they are, would be fucking idiots to let you get away.” Kind of like I was, I silently add, wondering if maybe it was too late for us after all. There was no way I was going to stand in his way with the opportunity of a lifetime like this staring him in the face.

He looks at me thoughtfully, and I remember how many times he got that look in the past, usually resulting in his immersion in his newest pet project; patrolling with the Pathetic Posse, posting prop-agit posters around town to stop Stockwell, and most recently, The Hunt for Domestic Bliss and Tranquility. Needless to say, I am a little frightened at the thought of being Justin Taylor’s pet anything. 

“You know,” he kneels next to me on the bed, fingers caressing my chest in a way that should have been soothing, but somehow made me feel like I was being marked by a dangerous predator. “You are so full of shit, Mr. Kinney; I should tie you to this bed and have my way with you all weekend to remind you that we just agreed to a reunion. The terms of our non-conventional relationship are still in the process of being renegotiated.” A shadow crosses his face as he meets my eyes. “Do you really think I’d put my career before us…before this…” He bends over me and presses a firm kiss to my lips. “before you?”

I close my eyes and seriously think about the situation. Would I want him to sacrifice his career to stay here in Pittsburgh with me? The selfish asshole inside of me screams a resounding, ‘Yes’, but the part of me that loves him more than I love myself reminds me that his needs trump mine, and holding him back will only breed resentment and unhappiness down the road.

“Brian.” He sounds pissed, and he grabs my chin, forcing me to look directly into his stormy blue eyes. Shit! I’m in trouble again! “Stop thinking so hard. They’ve offered me a spot in a small show in Pittsburgh and Philly over the next few months, neither of which requires me to relocate or redefine my life for my art.”

I feel an overwhelming sense of relief, followed immediately by a rush of pride at his accomplishment even as the asshole inside taunts me by labeling me pathetic. 

Fuck him! 

I reach up and pull Justin close to me, pressing our foreheads together, whispering a sincere apology for the unnecessary drama. 

“That’s okay.” He says seriously, “I’ll give you a free pass just this once because I really should have mentioned it earlier. I plead sleep deprivation coupled with the excitement of a weekend away with my booooyfriend.” He draws out the word boyfriend and I call him an annoying brat. 

He fits his body next to mine, head on my chest, fingers resting on my hip, and I feel myself start to drift off to sleep. For once, there is no one pounding on the door, or calling on the phone, no deadlines or client presentations looming overhead. 

There is only me and Justin.

It’s something I could get addicted to like the most potent of drugs.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brian and Justin spend some time ~~cuddling~~ on the slopes.

I wake up alone, and in that moment before I'm fully aware of my surroundings I feel the icy fingers of panic sliding across the edge of my consciousness. I quickly sense I'm not in the loft, and my relief when I finally realize I'm with Justin in our obscenely expensive suite at the resort nearly overwhelms me.

I blink in the bright sunlight streaming through the picture window, my heart rate slowing to normal as I catch sight of Justin tucked into an over-sized arm chair, happily sketching the stunning view spread before him.

He's more into abstracts and nudes, primarily my cock and balls, but I have to admit the landscape he's roughed out is beautiful. He's so naturally gifted, I wonder again how long the dull lights of the Pitts can possibly contain his fucking genius.

"Stop it." He pauses mid-stroke to shoot me a warning glance. "We've been over this already. I'm here because I want to be here--with you--figuring out a way to make us work without anyone falling off a cliff, or walking out the door on a quest for bullshit."

I don't know what to say to that; the little fucker was getting awfully good at overcoming my objections before I could even fully form them myself. So I simply shrug my shoulders, and bend down to press a kiss onto his blond head.

"You were really crashing, so I ordered breakfast, and extra strong coffee." He puts the sketchbook aside, and starts to get up, but I wave at him to stay put while I pour some of the high octane liquid for myself. I walk back over to him, settling behind him on the extra large, extra soft cushions, holding back a contented sigh as he immediately fits himself into the V of my legs with his back resting against my chest.

"This is a fucking awesome way to start the day, Brian." He murmurs, and my cock and I agree as he squirms around, his bountiful ass reawakening my morning wood in two seconds flat.

"Mmmm, good morning Mr. Kinney." He's practically purring as he stretches his neck back for a kiss, his tongue licking hungrily at my lips when he hears my moan.

He flips himself around, and settles between my legs, swallowing my cock with a skill that very few could surpass. I don't even try to hold back, and I'm shooting my wad down his throat in mere minutes, my fingers tangled in his hair until he crawls up my body, eager to share his morning protein with me. He knows how hot I find that, and I know he feels the same as he ruts against my abdomen, panting and moaning as he quickly gets himself off.

I squeeze his ass, and decide I like the feel of his warm body pressed against mine as we lie in the chair together just listening to each other breathe. He's stroking his fingers slowly up and down my chest, and the effect is somewhat hypnotic and definitely relaxing. I hear my voice say, "I guess sometimes its okay to cuddle" and the reaction from Justin is immediate and almost amusing.

His body jerks as though electrified, and he tries to roll off of me, but I tighten my hold, only letting him move back far enough to see my face. "What did you say?" His voice is low and raspy, and I give him an innocent look, mostly because I'm thinking he might try to kick the shit out of me if I allow my usual smirk to surface.

"I'll deny I ever admitted this to my dying day, but while you were gone I had a lot of time to reconsider certain...long held personal beliefs and attitudes I have strictly adhered to throughout my adult life." My mouth was dry despite the now lukewarm coffee I picked up and sipped nervously, unable to judge his reaction to my words, slightly impressed by his poker face. Gone were the days of the predictable princess who would have flipped out totally by my use of a word like 'cuddle'.

"Go on." he finally prompts, managing to look thoughtful and hopeful at the same time, no doubt ready to start taking notes on the changes implemented to the Kinney Manifesto.

"I came to the conclusion that in very specific circumstances, namely those dealing with you and me, our--relationship--things like intimacy, regrets, and apologies are an important, even vital part of building a life together."

He stares at me in fascination, long enough that if I were a man of lesser confidence I would have felt self-conscious. But he always deserves the truth, and the truth was that something inside of me had changed when it came down to the two of us, and I knew with total certainty that life was too short to hide from my one chance at love.

When he remains silent and unmoving, I raise my eyebrows, holding my hands out palm first in supplication. "Well?" I finally press, "Verbal skills finally failing you, Einstein?"

He moves closer, taking my outstretched hands firmly in his. "Never." he lets me pull him back into my arms, and finally I have him where I need him, because I still fucking hate to talk about this shit like it's a very special episode of Gay as Blazes.

"So do you agree with what I've said, or not?" this was new, and almost frightening to me; having to pull an opinion out of Justin is not usually this much of a challenge. Hell, he usually just calls it like he sees it, tact not necessarily included. And yet most people would say I'm the more hotheaded of the two of us. Sunshine definitely uses his innocent looks to his advantage. He really is a devious twat. 

He snuggles down into my arms, pressing several kisses into my neck before deciding to give me a proper answer.

"You know, I've been trying to convince you for years that all of your secrets would be safe with me. All I've ever really needed was for you to accept that I was different from the rest, but time and circumstances always seemed to conspire against us."

He stares up into my face, frustration evident in his expression. "Why the fuck is that?" He runs his fingers over my ears, cupping my head in his hands as he lets a glimpse of his inner drama queen peek out. "How could our timing seem to be so perfect on the surface, and yet in reality be so horribly fucked up?"

I shrug helplessly, knowing from experience it's best to let the complexities of his mind run its own course. Besides, I didn't disagree with the lad. We'd had more twists and turns on our road to happiness then the most treacherous mountain pass in the world, and we still hadn't quite reached our destination.

"It was the best of times, it was the worst of times?" I quote, in my opinion, quite cleverly, although I immediately shut my mouth when I see the glare that is Justin's reaction to my attempt at levity. "Maybe not."

He brushes my hair rather briskly back from my forehead in a slightly aggressive manner I find kind of hot. I try not to leer at him since we are still in the midst of our 'very important discussion', but I'm not too successful as Justin's glare simply intensifies, and he narrows his eyes in a way that should intimidate me, but only turns me on more.

Suddenly, I feel like he just might start taking his annoyance, with the shitty way he believes the world has treated us, out on my ass. I strive to look unconcerned, because he doesn't need me to give him any bright ideas pertaining to angry sex anymore. I have mixed feelings when he simply kisses me softly, slides off my lap, and heads into the bathroom.

In the doorway, he turns and looks at me, his expression that mix of innocence and hunger that works so well for him. "Let's not waste any more time then."

I'm on my feet studiously ignoring the old me trying to tell the new me that I'm officially a domesticated loser for letting him lead me around by my dick. I've pretty much decided to tell the old me to fuck off from now on when it comes to Justin. He has officially become the exception to all of my carefully crafted rules.

I happily join Justin in the fucking decadent shower, being sure to give him an excellent view of the imported Italian tile as I press him tightly up against it while we fuck.

Afterward, I dry him off, enjoying the way his hair spikes straight up as I rub it with the towel. It’s a guilty pleasure, my fascination with his hair, but I know he gets off on the idea, and with the exception of his Pink Posse days, has kept it longer for my benefit. Well, that, and he’s as vain a faggot as I am when it comes to his appearance. I definitely want Sunshine and his crowning glory to be around for a long, long time.

“So,” I ask in a patronizing tone that has Justin side-eyeing me as he pulls on his jeans, “what would you like to do today, dear?”

He does a slow cruise of my still naked body, and I preen obligingly before sauntering by him on my way to the closet. “As much as the idea of spending the entire weekend locked in here with you, fucking our brains out, is priceless, I did spend an equally excessive amount of money on a ski package for us. A day on the slopes could easily be followed by a night of you tied up in ropes.”

He laughs at my poor attempt at humor, but I know he appreciates the effort I’m making in showing him that I really was going to try harder this time to make him happy--make us both happy. No grand dramatic gestures, although if that’s what he needed, I would gladly do whatever it took to convince him that this time things would be different--but I was betting drastic measures wouldn’t be necessary.

“That sounds terrific.” He presses a kiss to my shoulder as I pull a sweater over my head. “Although I’m thinking that maybe a little healthy competition might be fun when it comes to deciding who gets tied up in knots tonight.” He palms my ass as he sits down to add sneakers to his stunning ensemble. “I’m assuming a place like this has someplace we can rent the appropriate clothes?”

I stare at him in mock-horror. “Justin, this is not a resort that caters to frat boys on a weekend jaunt from their shitty college dorms. There is an excellent Pro Shop on the property that offers only the finest in ski couture,” I pause at the knock on our door, before opening it to admit Roberts, pulling a rack of ski clothing behind him, “via room service.” I rock back on my heels at his surprised expression, trying not to look as smug as I felt.

“Just leave whatever doesn’t suit you on the rack, Mr. Kinney.” Roberts smiles at us sincerely before leaving the room as quickly as he had entered. There is a solid minute of silence after Robert’s exit, as I lean casually against the wall, trying not to look nervous.

“You are fucking unbelievable.” I consider Justin's words thoughtfully, nodding my head in agreement, because let’s face it, I really am. “They bring half of the fucking ski shop to your suite?”

“Our suite.” I correct him sweetly, making sure not to cringe when he suddenly invades my personal space. “And yes, it’s a service provided by the resort as part of that ridiculously expensive package I mentioned a few minutes ago.” I stare down at him haughtily. “Why? Would you prefer to try on used clothing with the econo-crowd in a smelly dressing room, Sunshine?”

He tries to maintain his faux outrage, but fails miserably as I call his bluff with a raised eyebrow. “I never thought about it, but I guess there are all types of room services available.”

I smirk at him suggestively, “You have no idea.”

He laughs outright and throws his arms around my neck, fingers playing in the hair at the nape of my neck, lips brushing against mine lightly before pulling way all too soon with a long suffering sigh. “The things I do for love.”

I straighten away from the wall, standing next to the rack of clothes he is now enthusiastically exploring. “Your sacrifices are truly monumental.” I mutter sarcastically before reaching for something sleek, black, and kick ass sexy for myself.

 

Several hours later, a rosy-cheeked twink drags me into the ski lodge, nattering on about how divine hot chocolate with mini-marshmallows will feel to his frozen assets. He at least has the good sense to look embarrassed when I tease him about how 'divine' my dick will look sliding in and out of his ass later. 

"Sorry." he apologizes while he stares at me from under his lashes. "I had an Emmett moment there." 

I make a mental note to push Miss Honeycutt's business cards on more of my clients, making sure he is far too busy catering his expensive tea parties instead of teaching my boy how to burn his flame brighter. 

But I follow him to a table in front of the the huge windows that oversee the slopes, ordering him an extra large, hot chocolate with extra mini-marshmallows, and extra whipped cream. I stick with an Irish coffee with extra whiskey and non-fat cream.

He's as excited as a kid at Christmas, and I have to wonder why the fuck I've fought for so long against this--against him. He takes his first sip and laughs as he watches a few first time skiers land on their asses on the bunny slopes. I watch him closely, feeling elated and confused, leaning in to lick the creamy froth from his upper lip, before boldly claiming his lips, completely ignoring the surprised and curious stares of the breeders that surround us. 

We're in fucking love, and I don't give a shit who knows it. They can all kiss my ass, and judge themselves.


End file.
